


bad old times & thoughts of vengeance

by Lonewritersclub



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Just a thought, Little Joker, Origin Story, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse, but not really, kind of like a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: when joker's mother would bathe him with bleach and his father would beat him with shards of glass





	bad old times & thoughts of vengeance

bad old times & thoughts of vengeance

"you need to be clean. clean like a porcelain pig. clean clean clean clean clean", she chants into little jay's ear as she pours more bleach into the worn out rag. it used to be yellow but now it's nearly all white. 

she grips little jay's head by his ashy blond hair and tilts his face to the flickering ceiling light. she puts the jug of bleach down on the chipped sink counter and without a missing a beat she starts scrubbing little jay's face with the saturated rag of burning liquid even when he tries to bite her thumb. the look on her face is unforgiving, her green eyes livid.

"bad boys need cleansing. a cleansing to make everything good again. bad boys like you. bad", she runs the rag over his eyes and he cries in her arms. "need a good boy, not you."

he struggles but she's relentless and stronger. drops of bleach drip down little jay's chin and stain his red too big t-shirt. she nearly growls out her venomous words. 

"bad boy takes after his father."

little jay can't do anything at all. 

police sirens echo against the tall blocks of building and fall in through the cracked dirty window of the bathroom. little jay sits in a tub of cold water and bleach wanting to drown. instead her mother keeps rubbing him with the scratchy towel until father comes back from the bar and starts shouting. 

"what's all this fucking glass on the floor, huh? you messed with the boys on the street again, didn't you, you little brat?!"

ripples of water form and bathwater gurgles down the pipes when little jay flinches as his mother stands up in a fright. father has suddenly appeared in the doorway after slamming it wide open nearly off the hinges.

he's furious, face red and twisted. he stares at mother.

"i'm cleansing him, jack! he's being cleansed!"

he sneers at her. "shut up, bitch. i don't want to hear your batshit."

then he turns to little jay. his hands are fists.

"they broke in and wrecked the whole apartment again because of you, ain't that right?!"

little jay holds his little bumpy knees closer to his chest. father grunts and throws his beer bottle at him. glass shatters over little jay's head when the bottle hits the wall behind him. red mixes with the bleach in the water. 

"they beat me up", little jay whimpers and curls in on himself even more. "they asked me for money but i told them i didn't have any. i tried to stop them but they forced their way in."

father stalks over to him, leaning over him with a pointy hairy finger. mother hugs the wall by the sink. 

"it's  _all_  your fault, you little shit. no coming back from it no matter how many lies you come up with", he tells little jay with his low husky voice. then his hand gripping the tub releases and suddenly it's holding little jay by the head and he’s kept under the water. 

"i should just throw you out! you're nothing but a mistake! nothing but trouble!" 

his seething angry voice comes out muffled and strange into little jay's ears when he yells at him over the mass of water.

mother runs out of the bathroom taking the jug of bleach with her. pills drop on the beige fitted carpet as she swallows down too many of her government paid mood stabilizers. 

just before little jay loses consciousness, father's hand gets tired and he leaves to the kitchen to get another beer from the buzzing fridge. he chugs it down with a grimace.

"get this fucking mess out of the way", he orders mother as he passes her by with a slap to her face that sends her falling to the ground. meanwhile little jay emerges from the water with a splash and a big desperate intake of air. little jay isn't feeling so good but he manages to trudge back to his little room in a damp towel and red itching skin.

he collapses on the hard smelly mattress on his creaking wiry bed and thinks about how one day he's going to leave this house and make everyone pay for what they had done to him. he thinks about how he's going to make everyone kneel in front of him and beg him for his mercy. he thinks about how maybe then someone would listen to him and maybe someone would save him. he thinks about how maybe someone would finally make him feel not so scared. 

not so angry. 

not so cold.

not like this. 

not with green paint still stuck to his hair from when father spilled the can of wall paint on his head and then hit him with the lid across his mouth making it bleed. 

not with scarring paper white skin from when mother tries to purify him from the sins he did not commit and the ones he did.

not with bruises all over his body and long afternoons spent at the rundown doctor's office with aching broken bones. 

not beaten up by the boys on the street and made fun of for looking funny.

not alone and lonely and afraid and unsure.

he thinks about those things as the police sirens go by and not stopping for him. he thinks about it as his mother weeps quietly and his father drinks in front of the tv. he thinks about it as he's skin turns into an even paler shade of white and the fragments of glass dig at his back.

he doesn’t think when he closes his eyes and dreams. he only tries to remember how to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> This was really spontaneous of me but why not. Do let me know what you think if you've got the time.


End file.
